


In Sickness and in Health

by 44TayLo



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Hulk spit that out you don't know where it's been, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21626776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/44TayLo/pseuds/44TayLo
Summary: “'What the fuck did you eat?!''Hulk got too into fight.'Well, at least Hulk sounded sheepish."Hulk eats something he really shouldn't have, and Bruce ends up with a stomach ache for the first time in years. Fortunately, Tony is brilliant. Unfortunately, he's not very good at playing nurse.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark
Comments: 28
Kudos: 118





	In Sickness and in Health

**Author's Note:**

> I keep getting sick and I'm mad. Now Bruce has to suffer, too. This is definitely inspired a little by the Avengers Assemble (comic) Science Bros arc.
> 
> Seriously, this is just a cute little sick-fic.

Bruce couldn’t remember what Hulk ate. Given the fact that he’d eaten it while they were fighting aliens in New Jersey, it couldn’t have been anything good. All he knew was that when he’d come back to himself, he’d dropped to the ground and couldn’t stop vomiting.

He groaned, face scrunched up tightly against the pain in his stomach that somehow outweighed the post-Hulk pain in his head.

_“What the fuck did you eat?!”_

_“Hulk got too into fight.”_

Well, at least Hulk sounded sheepish. _“What does that mean? Did you eat an alien?!”_

Somehow, Hulk managed to mumble in their shared headspace. Bruce was pretty sure he understood him regardless.

 _“Sorry,_ part _of an alien?!”_ Bruce still hadn’t stopped vomiting, and now he was becoming really concerned, little, pathetic whimpering noises accompanying his gasps for breath in between his stomach’s heaving. _“Come out and deal with this!”_

_“Hulk try! Hulk not sick before. Scared.”_

Fuck. Bruce turned his head to the side and was greeted with a Hulk-sized puddle of sick. It seemed there wasn’t going to be an easy way out of this. At least it wouldn’t kill him.

“Hey, Big Guy…oh shit.”

Bruce cringed at Tony’s voice. He tried to stop, breathing slowly through his nose, because he really didn’t want Tony to see this.

“Bruce, hey, what’s happening, what’s wrong?” Tony’s voice was frantic, and Bruce wanted the ground to swallow him whole when he vomited again despite his best efforts.

“Hulk ate something,” he managed, sounding breathless. Strong, metal arms wrapped around his chest and not his stomach, thank God, supporting him. Bruce sagged a bit with relief. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could have supported himself before collapsing into a pile of his own puke.

“Yeah, he ate an alien’s arm, ripped it clean off. Just in time, too. It was aiming for Nat.”

Bruce wasn’t certain if the giddiness in Tony’s voice irritated him or if he found it endearing. He also wasn’t certain if his next round of dry-heaving (he’d already reached the point of dry-heaving, fuck) was because of his own disgust at Hulk’s actions or his rebelling stomach.

They just sat there silently for a few moments, Bruce breathing without his stomach rebelling, and Tony holding him up. After a full minute, Tony slowly straightened, bringing Bruce with him and supporting him in a standing position.

“Easy, Big Guy, we have to get you home.”

The moment they were upright, sharp pain shot through Bruce’s abdomen. He whimpered, a small part of himself embarrassed and angry at the sound, and tried to breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

He could see the battlefield, now, instead of just staring at the disgusting puddle beneath him. There were alien bodies strewn around. He was pretty sure he spied one missing an arm, and the appendage had not been removed very cleanly. In fact, he thought the flesh looked like teeth had ripped into it.

Bruce realized there was something stuck in his own teeth. “Oh God,” he mumbled, shaking hand picking at whatever it was (he was pretty certain he knew what it was). He squinted at his hand. Yeah, that was a piece of blue flesh.

“Oh, okay, Bruce, sweetheart,” Tony rambled as he shifted to Bruce’s side and held him as he keeled over.

This round was definitely because he was disgusted and grossed out, Bruce knew without a doubt.

“Your face is green,” Tony said worriedly.

Despite the fact that he was pretty sure there was vomit on his chin and sweat covering the rest of him, Bruce managed to give Tony a supremely unimpressed look. He softened, though, when he saw that Tony had his faceplate retracted and was staring at him with unrestrained worry.

“Not the fun kind of green,” Tony amended.

It seemed Bruce’s stomach was content to just hurt, shooting pains tearing up his insides, so he shifted the best he could to wrap his arms around Tony and hide his face against his metal chest. His eyelids drooped despite himself, and he sagged against Tony, trusting him to support his weight.

“Alright, ready? One, two,” Tony counted, hoisting Bruce into his arms as gently as he could on “three.”

Despite how careful Tony was being, it jostled Bruce unpleasantly. Strangely, it hurt his head more than anything. His stomach had mellowed to a constant ache with the occasional sharp pain, so Bruce let his eyes slip closed.

He hadn’t wanted Tony to see him like this, but it was too late now, and Bruce trusted him to keep him safe until they were home.

* * *

When Brue woke up, he was covered in sweat and staring up at a painfully bright light. Oh fuck, that wasn’t…all…sweat. He must have been throwing up in his sleep.

Then he noticed the IV in his arm.

He scrambled to push himself into a sitting position. Immediately, hands began helping him sit up. He breathed slowly, eyes closed and arms lashing out.

“Bruce, love, it’s me.”

Tony’s voice broke through, and Bruce forced his eyes open. He was in an infirmary bed in what looked like the Hulk cage on the Hellicarier.

“You’re okay. I’ve been here the whole time,” Tony assured as he carded a hand through Bruce’s hair.

Bruce leaned into the touch, humming a bit. If Tony had been here, then he was okay. He was safe.

“Just some fluids,” Tony continued to soothe. “I’m sorry, they wouldn’t let you in without putting you in quarantine. Speaking of which, why hasn’t Hulk shown up to take care of this?”

“He tried. Just made him sick,” Bruce mumbled. He sounded truly pathetic. “’m sorry you have to deal with this.”

“Don’t be sorry.”

Bruce frowned, opening his eyes. Tony sounded upset, maybe even scared. More than that, as Bruce surveyed his face, he could tell Tony was hiding something. For the first time, fear took hold of Bruce.

“What’s wrong?” He put as much force into his voice as possible. It wasn’t a lot.

“The alien Hulk ate was carrying parasites.” At Bruce’s terrified expression, Tony was quick to flash a reassuring smile that Bruce saw right through. “But don’t worry! I’m working on a cure.”

Bruce just clung to Tony, the next wave of abdominal pain wracking his frame. Tony would find a cure. He’d find it. He just kept repeating that to himself, not realizing he was saying it out loud like a mantra.

“He’ll find it, he’ll find it, it’ll be okay, he’ll find it,” he muttered between labored breathes, focusing on Tony’s hand carding through his hair. It didn’t take long for sleep to claim him.

* * *

The next time Bruce awoke, he was in his own bed. Someone had changed him into his pajamas, and he highly suspected they’d cleaned him up a bit, too. He tried to push himself into a sitting position, but his limbs felt shaky and weak. He wondered idly how long he’d been bed ridden. At least his stomach didn’t seem as upset anymore.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Bruce looked up to see Tony walking into the room, carrying a bowl of something. He couldn’t help but snort. He didn’t feel gorgeous at the best of times, and he certainly didn’t feel that way now. He did smile as Tony approached, though. “You found a cure,” he surmised.

“Of course I did, I said I would, didn’t I?” Tony’s smile was soft, despite his cocky tone. It didn’t take a genius to realize he was as relieved as Bruce was. He even placed a kiss to Bruce’s temple.

“I’m gross,” Bruce mumbled, pulling away despite how amazing the affection felt. “And still a little nauseas.” He sniffed, smelling something that churned his stomach. It was coming from the bowl in Tony’s hand. “Tony, did you bring me clam chowder?”

Tony’s smile turned uncertain. “Yeah, you’re supposed to eat soup when you’re sick. You haven’t eaten anything in three days, I thought—”

Bruce spied a plastic bowl next to his head and promptly lost the battle with his upset stomach into it.

“So clam chowder is a no-go, then?”

Bruce just sighed into the bowl, not trusting himself to leave it, yet. “Toast?” he croaked.

“Yep, right away, you got it…”

Bruce felt much steadier after Tony took away the clam chowder. He even managed to eat the toast Tony brought him without throwing it back up. While he ate, Tony explained the cure he’d devised, sounding extraordinarily relieved the entire time. Bruce noted that he didn’t seem grossed out at all, despite the fact that Bruce knew he didn’t handle other people’s sickness very well.

Eventually, Bruce fell asleep again. When he awoke this time, it was to sweat-soaked sheets. He felt supremely overheated, which was only making his nausea worse. It took him a moment to realize someone had stacked two more blankets on top of him. Grunting, he kicked all of the blankets off, relishing the cool air on his skin.

It was too little too late, and Bruce found himself throwing up once again in the plastic bowl, which had been washed out at some point.

“Too hot?” Tony asked sheepishly from the doorway.

Bruce rolled over to look at him once he’d finished.

Tony was already by his side, holding a bottle of water. He helped him sit up again, but refused to let Bruce drink on his own. Instead, he insisted on keeping him upright with one hand and pressing the bottle to his lips with the other.

The cool water felt amazing on Bruce’s throat and stomach. “Thanks.”

Tony just shook his head. “Sorry about the blankets. I thought you were supposed to, well, I’m not the best at this whole nurse schtick.” He shrugged helplessly.

“You saved my life. I couldn’t care less about how good of a nurse you are.” Bruce settled against Tony more fully, leaning against him.

Smiling that soft smile again, Tony set the water bottle down and helped Bruce settle back into bed. He took the plastic bowl, only making a tiny face of disgust, and presumably left to wash it out.

When Tony finally came back Bruce motioned him to the bed and scooted over. Since Tony didn’t seem to mind cuddling with him, he decided to capitalize on it. “Come here.”

Tony slid into bed and pulled Bruce close to him.

“This is all I need,” Bruce mumbled with a sigh. “This, and your brilliant brain to come up with a cure when Hulk eats shit he isn’t supposed to.”

_“Hulk say sorry!”_

_“You didn’t,”_ Bruce refuted, his tone dry in their head. “ _But apology accepted.”_

“I am pretty brilliant, aren’t I?” Tony seemed to relax against the pillows, tone teasing as he smiled serenely at the compliment.

“Mhm,” Bruce agreed. He let the silence hang between them, savoring the hand brushing through his hair. He thought back to how well Tony had taken care of him, and how well he had tried to take care of him even when it was the opposite of helpful. Bruce had been terrified of Tony seeing him like this. Sick, vulnerable, and frankly disgusting. But Tony didn’t seem to mind at all.

Bruce’s heart swelled, and he nuzzled the chest under his cheek. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

The hand in his hair stilled, causing Bruce to whine a little. He would have been embarrassed about that in the past, but not now.

“Of course. I’m crazy about you, and love makes you do insane things,” Tony said simply. “Like occasionally taking care of you when you’re sick. Even if it’s super gross.”

Bruce thought he felt tears in his eyes, but he wasn’t quite ready to be that openly vulnerable if he could help it. “Love you, too,” he mumbled, pressing his face against Tony’s chest a bit harder to hide his expression.

“It’s going to take forever to get the meat back on your bones.” Tony poked him very carefully. “I can see your ribs again. J said you lost ten pounds. In three days. That’s better than any celebrity crash diet I’ve ever tried.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, looking up from his place on Tony’s chest. “If you want to expose yourself to alien parasites just to lost ten pounds, suit yourself.” Tony would never do something that reckless with his health, and if he did get sick, well Bruce would just take care of him.

Tony snorted a laugh, but settled back down.

Sleep was quickly claiming Bruce again, but the nausea had finally gone away. Now he was just exhausted. “Can’t believe Hulk ate a part of an alien,” he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

“Really? I can,” Tony teased.

_“Hulk say sorry! How many times say sorry?!”_

_“Just don’t do it again.”_

_“Fine,”_ Hulk begrudgingly agreed. _“Hulk not eat weird things again.”_

Satisfied and feeling cared for in a way he hadn’t felt in years, Bruce drifted off. This time, he slept soundly until morning, safe in in Tony’s arms.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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